


and they seem to sparkle

by babybearkiki



Series: marvin and whizzer are utterly happy, and in love [1]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, Whizzer Brown Lives, a little homophobia, but not really, its the 80s, mentions of aids, this is how i cope with falsettos ending, whizzer looks good in green
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybearkiki/pseuds/babybearkiki
Summary: Marvin musters up the confidence to go engagement ring shopping
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Series: marvin and whizzer are utterly happy, and in love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147496
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	and they seem to sparkle

**Author's Note:**

> Marvin and Whizzer deserved to be happy, heres a series of oneshots to do that:)  
> kudos and comments are appreciated <33

“Well!” The salesman shouts, and Marvin looks up with a concerned, yet unimpressed glare, “We have these princess cut rings,” He beams, “They're new.” 

Marvin makes a _meh_ sound, waving his hand. Turning to look at another glass display, but the salesman has propped himself before Marvin once more, making him wince.

“Or maybe something more suitable for mature women-” 

“Um,” Marvin exhales, hard. It wasn't so difficult to ring shop for Trina- so why Whizzer? 

Probably because he loves whizzer, and does he _love_ Whizzer.

“Well.” Marvin grunts, swinging back on his heels, “Do you have anything a little more-” _shit_ “masculine?” He clears his throat. 

The salesman blinks, and Marvin believes he'll have to change his shirt in the car with how much he was sweating. 

“Right.” he comments, pulling his suit together tightly, “some of our three cut rings have a rather- bulky build.” He gives an awkward smile, and his hands gesture to a small glass box, perched neatly on the counter. 

Marvin examines these rings, and they seem to sparkle like Whizzer himself. 

There are six rings perched neatly in the case. Glittering effortlessly against the fluorescent overhead lights. They're tucked into a velvet coating, much like how whizzer tucks Jason into bed each friday and saturday night. And, oh Whizzer, Marvin thinks, looking at the jewelry. The rings varied in shape, some pear, some oval, some emerald. He's sure the salesman is talking, but he can't hear him. They're perfect, _perfect_. Marvin chants to himself, nodding his head. 

“I'd like to see these ones.” he declares, maybe a little too loud. 

When the salesman opens the case, Marvin swears he hears the pearly gates swing open. 

“Yes.” Marvin whispers, his eyes darting between the gems. 

“Which..one, sir?” The salesman presses, cautiously. As is afraid Marvin was going to lunge behind the counter and demand obscenities. Maybe give him the gay cancer.

Marvin fixes his tie and shuffles his feet. His finger and thumb perched under his chin- thinking. 

“This one-” Marvin goes to reach for a dazzling green, emerald cut ring, but the box is yanked by the salesman. Whose face reads nothing but fearful. The man takes the ring out of the box, andsprays it delicately with something. Marvin huffs a small bit at this. 

The ring is packaged neatly into a deep blue, velveted box, and stuffed into a bag. Marvin doesn't even hear the price, he simply taps his shoes against the carpet endlessly, and swipes his card. 

With crisp air hitting Marvins face when he leaves the shop. The streets are bustling, and he's going to be late for dinner. Though, before he has to trudge home, Marvin must make a run to the drycleaners.

And boy does he run, clutching the small brown bag in his fist, he's darting down the street, one up, one over, to the right, around the left. He's surely caused a car accident by now. 

Marvin manages to catch himself in the reflection of the drycleaning glass. As he's gasping for air, his hair has made itself a rats nest, the sweat glistened on his face, and his shirt has become untucked over his corduroy pants. He was going to propose like this? 

“Hi!” nonetheless he exclaims, marching inwards, “i'm here for-” he notices the mint button up, hanging politely on a rack. Marvin can't help but gently smile as his fingers course through the fabric.

When Marvin had first met Whizzer, whizzer was defined by the fresh and bold color. The shirt had run its course throughout their relationship. It suffered food stains from Whizzer anxiously doing the dishes, or making dinner. It suffered tears at the cuffs, and weathering at the collar, from there Marvins hands got excessively forceful. Whizzer abandoned the shirt shortly after their breakup. Because of the pain, or maybe it was just plain old. Marvin wasn't sure. But he was sure, when he saw a mint green button up, handsomely dressed over a mannequin while getting coffee for his coworkers, he had to secure it. 

This was weeks prior, and now that the shirt had been washed, ironed, and pressed, all very far from Whizzer, Marvin was ready to take it home. 

_Home_. Marvin thinks. He's sweating, facing the door of his apartment. He stuffed the ring into his briefcase, and is clutching the shirt wrapped in paper over his shoulder. The sun was buried deep below the night sky. It's cold. 

He can see his breath appear before his face, sighing while he begins to fumble for his keys- but the door opens before he can retrieve them from his pocket, and god, is Marvin having a breakdown. 

Whizzer stands perched against the doorframe, he's wearing a fitting polo shirt, with sleeves cuffed around his biceps. His hair flops to one side of his face, and he's rubbing his hands over a hand towel, before he chucks it over his shoulder. 

“Well, you're late for dinner.” Whizzer smirks. 

“Yes,” Marvin sighs, his head hanging, “I had a couple of chores,” He shrugs his shoulders, showing his briefcase and the paper bag over him, “to do.” 

Whizzer smiles, he often did when he heard Marvin simply talk. He takes the briefcase, and closes the door behind Marvin. 

“New suit?” Whizzer inquires, but Marvin invites him for a small kiss as he's taking off his coat. He obliges. 

“Something like that.” Marvin nods, he carefully drapes the shirt over their couch, “what's for dinner?” 

“Gyros.” Comes the reply, Marvin can hear the onion being cut up. He nods to himself and begins to nervously shake his hands, almost in a jazzy way. 

“Marvin.” Whizzer almost curses, and Marvin turns, “What are you doing with your hands? It's dinner, not high school theatre.” Whizzer banters, waving the knife around. Marvin can only nervously chuckle, squeezing his hands into a fist by his sides. 

“Marvin,” Whizzer begins again, a little more seriously. He's put the knife down, and his forearms are sculpted as he's propped himself against the counter, “did you fall asleep on the toilet at work again?” 

‘What? That was one time!” Marvin loosens a little at this, and dances over to shuffle off his shoes, ‘besides _you_ were the one that kept me up all night.” He laughs, a hearty laugh. 

It's perfect. From the playful laughter, or the wandering hands after dinner- even the unkept, messy home, that Whizzer would always beg for Marvin to throw his clothes in the laundry basket, not next to it. It was all perfect. Marvin feels the need to act fast. 

So as Whizzer is decorating the plates, tapping his feet as he hums a song, Marvin is frantically opening the briefcase, stuffing the box into his pocket, and abruptly stepping behind Whizzer. 

When Whizzer turns, he's surprised to find Marvin nearly touching noses with him. There is no lust in his eyes. It's fear, but it's loving. It's something new. 

“Marv-?” Whizzer is prompted to begin, but is cut short by Marvin drastically dropping to one knee, gripping the box in his white fingers. 

Whizzer must have forgotten how to breathe. His mouth is held open by a force, and all feeling in his arms have left him- he dropped the food and plates along when Marvin dropped himself to one knee. 

“Whizzer,” Marvins breathing is heavy, from the unprepared speech he's about to give, or the broken porcelain and grilled chicken around him, or both, “Two years ago I would've probably never wished id had met you,” Marvin flinches, _not romantic, Marvin_ , “Because of my breaking up family, or my own, bad thoughts about men- or just, me. But now-,” Marvin drops his neck and sighs, Whizzer is crying, “I know that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I couldn't live another day without it, without you.” Marvin wants to cry as well. His voice quivers. 

Before Marvin can compose himself to pop the question, Whizzer is on both of his knees, tackling Marvin. He's shouting something like, yes, yes, yes! Through his sobs. 

Marvin can feel the relief sway through him, and his back heel is supporting both the weight of Whizzer and him, as Whizzer is huddled deeply into Marvin, crying. Marvin can only fist a hand into his lovers hair, and kiss the back of his neck. 

“You haven't even looked at your ring.” Marvin cooes, his voice reminiscent of crying as well. 

Whizzer pulls himself back, and wipes his tears with the heel of his hand. 

The box is carefully opened by Marvin, and Whizzer lets himself melt at the sight of the ring. With its gold band, and deep green gem resting in the center, it's almost too much to handle for Whizzer. He wants to scream, or shake Marvin silly. Instead, he dives for a kiss, a truly romantic, beautiful kiss. 

It's a sight. With Marvin now laying on the kitchen floor, Whizzer atop him, kissing him not like a boyfriend, or a lover, but a _fiance_. There's glass and gyro everywhere, and a tiny band resting in Marvin's hand. 

“There's more.” Marvin gasps when they pull apart, and Whizzer cocks his head, with a grin. Away from the disastrous kitchen, Marvin instructs Whizzer to cover his crying eyes with his hands, as he unwraps the shirt from its paper cover, ‘okay.’ Marvin gleams, proudly holding up the shirt. 

His lover drops his face, and Marvin almost believes that he's screwed everything up, but Whizzer gladfully takes the ends of the shirt and fondles with the buttons, with a childish smile over his face. 

‘It's just like-” 

“The one you had when we started dating.” 

“Marv…” Whizzer whispered, studying the cuffs and hemline. Is he gonna start crying again? 

Marvin folds the shirt against his stomach, and pulls himself closer to Whizzer. 

“You deserve more than the world,” His words stumble, yet he means it, “but I thought a new shirt would be good enough.” He jokes. And whizzer is completely gone in it all. 

When the sunlight hits Marvin's eyes, he groans, and scrunches his eyebrows against it. But he hears scuffling, and the weight beside him has gone empty, and its cold. So he struggles to sit up, and hazily opens his eyes. 

Whizzer is buttoning up his newly pressed, fresh and bold, mint shirt. Now, with the addition of a charming ring on his finger. He stands and adores it in the sunlight for a while. Until Marvin clears his throat, and Whizzer must turn. He jumps to the bed. 

“Good morning,” He smiles, and gifts Marvin a kiss so swift, Marvin can't register it to kiss back, ‘like my ring?” he hums, stretching his fingers over the sheets. 

Marvin is still adjusting his eyes to the streams of light, blinking harshly. Yet he raises his eyebrows accordingly and examines Whizzer flaunting the ring. Smiling affectionately, and approvingly. 

“Green looks good on you.” Marvin admires hazily, and rolls over onto his back with a sigh. 

“Cmon, get up.” Whizzer teases with a light smack on Marvin's chest, “we’re having brunch with the lesbians.” 

Marvin wipes his hands over his face and groans. 

“Just to brag?” Propping himself up on his elbows, Marvin nods to Whizzers hand, “you don't even like brunch,” he yawns with a scoff, “you said it was tacky.” 

‘Well,” Whizzer makes a _hmph_ sound, “That was before I had something to show off to everyone.” he chirps. 

“What about me?” Marvin laughs, almost offended. 

“No,” his lover purrs, leaning against Marvin on the bed and delivering a thoughtful kiss, “I like you all to myself.” 

Whizzer looks good in green, and with the sun dancing off his face, he seems to sparkle.


End file.
